169:

The place where her fingers had been was warm. Now it was attracting the cold. He kept her gaze as long as he could. But something inside rebelled.

He shook his head. "Kids and worlds."

"Clouds and harps." She said.

"So you worship a God who is a Father, and creates people, and worlds, and gives them the ability to do the same."

"Yeah." She breathed.

"It's easier to believe in clouds and harps."

"Why?" she cried and turned to the post in frustration.

"Easier." He repeated.

"Because the people you know would rather not be..."

"They'd rather embrace a life that allows them the choice to do what they want here, not what some being dictates."

She shook her head. "Okay, and that's exactly what he gave them."

He knew they were back to agency, and he felt his own ire rise. Agency was one of her favorite topics. "How so? He gave them all these rules, and they have to follow them...."

"If they want to, Blaze, if they want to have what he has, what he offers. Otherwise, they get exactly what you just said, the freedom to do whatever they want." She pounded the post and he could see that she was really worked up this time. "It's like this, you have a kid, you want what's best for him, you want him to make something of himself, you may even want him to go into the family business, right? And some kids choose to do just that. 

"They see their dad's and they like what they see, and so they ask dad, what did you have to do to get where you are, dad? Most dad's, you see, in our day and age at least, would rather the kid chose to go into the family business and wouldn't want to force it on him. But say he does come and ask, well, then, dad is going to say, son, you have to go to school, or you have to put in your time as an apprentice, maybe with me, maybe you'll just have to do what I did. But I can show you how, okay? 

"Some kids have crap dads, they see what their dad did, and they're like, no way, I'm not going to make those same mistakes, I'm going to be better than that. It's the same principle. Kids still watch dad's and either choose to be like them, or not." 

Blaze searched his soul, right now: could he make sense of her words? Yes. So, he'd have to think about them. But any more words tonight would just be frustrating and detrimental. He took her hand and stopped her from getting any more slivers. He turned her and brought her cold fingers to his lips.

"It's okay. You've given me something new to stew about. You're really helping me think, okay?"

"I want you to understand." She pleaded, sensing that he was wrapping it up. And why...

He nodded. "I have to think now. It's the way I am. But rest assured you've helped me think, okay?" he smiled gently.

She blew out her breath and shook her head. "I never say what I really want to. I'm a lousy missionary."

"You're actually a very good missionary, because you live it, Trace. Just cause I don't get it yet, doesn't mean you're a bad missionary. I choose not to get it completely. It would mean changing who I am."

"Inside, you are so good, Blaze. I want you to...."

In an amazing rush of desire and an extreme mood swing, brought about maybe by her ability to make him rethink who he was, he pressed his lips to hers, opened, pressed again. Startled, she backed up, he held her there. 

"Remember the music?" he said against her lips, but Tracy backed up again, and put a hand up, he caught it and reached for her once more. "That was just us. There was more to us than...." He kissed her again, pulled her close.

"Please, stop...." She mumbled against him, caught off guard by his abrupt change of dynamic. She felt confused; she wasn't ready to be done talking. And she had a real aversion to stolen kisses. Her right hand actually itched in cellular remembrance of other stolen kisses.

He stumbled away from her, flung out an arm toward the post and hunched over to wrap his arms around his middle. Tracy shuddered. "Blaze...."

"No! No, don't apologize. It's not you, Trace...." He cried, and stumbled further away from her. Perhaps he too was remembering what stolen kisses meant to her. But this had been different, and not without precedent. She'd been willing before, she'd kissed him.

Tracy watched him, worlds colliding within her.... Stolen kisses.... Damn stolen kisses.... "I didn't mean for us to..."

"Stop it, don't say anything." He choked out. He turned to her, twenty feet away, and clear in the moonlight. "It's not your fault. It's not anybody's fault, just don't say anything. And don't run off."

"I want to understand."

"I want you. It's that simple."

"Because of the music?"

"Because of the music, yeah! The synergy, the chemistry.... Damn, Trace, because of what you offer, the religion. It's all wrapped up in one thing. Yeah, I want you. And you've made it clear that you don't... want... me...."

Tracy felt her neck tighten, her hands rose of their own will. "But not.... I don't want it to be like this. I want to..."

He shook his head. "Sleep with me." 

Tracy's eyes narrowed, "Wh-what do you mean?"

He chuckled and ran a hand through his goatee. "I mean, sleep with me."

She took a step toward him. "I don't understand." She said. "Like let's go in? Go to bed? Like, we already decided we'd sleep in the tent..."

"No, sleep with me." He repeated, but now he put a foot up on a fallen post. "Sleep with me."

She shook her head. "I can't." 

"Come on."

"N-no." she stood very still, a hand out to him. "Why are you doing this? This isn't what you've wanted. It's not..."

"I do want it. From the very first, it's been there. I want you. It's that simple."

"Don't do this." She whispered, her heart in her eyes, pleading with him to understand, and he did, damn it! He did!. "Please...."

"How do you know that I don't love you?" It was the thread of a conversation had their first night, but she knew it.

"I- I just think that you don't know me well enough to love me like that. And- and love has to be shared, and I don't...."

"I think you do."

"No." she shook her head, her voice small, not wanting to hurt him, not wanting to start a fight, or even a confrontation. Flashes of running away tormented her mind-- the anger, the misunderstanding.

He swallowed. "Sleep with me." 

"Stop it."

"I want you."

"I'm not yours."

"Sleep with me. I'm here, I'm now, I'm open for you to take. Come on."

*****